A Spoopy Overwatch Tale
by The Strike Commander
Summary: This is a spooky Overwatch story that pits our heroes in a bizarre world where the forces of darkness run amok. We follow Ana Amari as she searches for her missing daughter, and soon she is joined by Jack Morrison as they embark on a dangerous journey against a wicked enemy.


Once in an isolated, mountainside town, there lived an old, eccentric widow. She had a meager living as most of the townspeople did, but she had one possession that brought her more joy than even the jolliest of her neighbors. This widow had a daughter whom she cherished more than a taxcollector adores gold. When the sun would rise, the widow would give her daughter a kiss so that they were together wherever the daughter wandered, and when the sun would set, the widow would hug her daughter tight so that the weariness of the day would melt away.

One day, the widow was anxiously awaiting her daughter's return. The hour was late, and the waning sun nestled into the mountains like a cherry on an ice cream sundae. The widow went out onto her porch to see if she could spot her daughter returning from her day. The grassy knolls swayed in the chilling winds. The cold air from the mountains did not feel homely as it should, but a haunting chill overcame the entire town as if God himself had turned his face away from the little village. The widow's daughter did not return before the sun had disappeared.

The widow was worried, but she reluctantly returned to her home. "My daughter is a mature lady," she reasoned, "She can come home as she pleases. I will wake in the morning, and she will be home." That night she slept, but her head swirled with horrible fantasies of her daughter's fate.

The next morning the widow ran to her daughter's bedroom, but when she found no one there, she was distraught. "My daughter is not here!" she said to herself, "I must go and seek her. If she is in trouble, I am the only one who will go looking."

So the widow went from place to place and inquired about her daughter. She asked the young people whom her daughter befriended if they had seen her.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Amari. I didn't see her at all yesterday," said Miss Oxton.

"I have not seen her either," said little Hana.

Finding no help from her daughter's friends, the widow made her way into town. She came to the town hall and paused to speak to the mayor who stood pridefully on the cobblestones. "Please, Sir Reinhardt! You must help me."

"Ah, lady Ana," the tall man bellowed, "How can I assist you this fine day?"

"My daughter is missing," the widow cried. Normally, the mayor's charm won over any distressing emotions, but this time grief was obviously written over her face.

"Fareeha is missing, you say?" Reinhardt's wide shoulders jostled, "Well, I can help you. I saw her walking, just yesterday, towards the library." With a smile and a nod, he affirmed his claim.

"Thank you, sir," Ana replied. Now a flickering hope replaced her sorrow.

"Of course, my lady!" Reinhardt said with a chuckle, "Let me know if I can be of any more assistance."

So the widow made her way to the library, a place where the learned men of the village often gathered. When she entered, Ana immediately noticed her friend Professor Winston quietly perusing the shelves. She approached him. "Professor," she said.

Winston turned from his books and was delighted to see the lady. "Oh hello, Ana," he said smiling, "I hope you're here about your daughter. She's quite a bright individual, and I think her mind would be better utilized under my tutorship."

"That's very flattering," Ana said, "I am here about my daughter but not for her education. She has recently gone missing, and I heard that she came here yesterday."

"Well that is troubling," Winston said, his smile fading to a stern frown, "She was here yesterday, but for what I cannot say. I believe you ought to ask the librarian; perhaps she knows what Fareeha was doing."

"Thank you, professor," Ana said, "I will do that."

"Any time," Winston replied.

Then Ana walked the musky halls of the library in search of the librarian. When Ana found the librarian, she asked about her daughter, and the librarian responded promptly.

"Yes, your daughter was looking for a book detailing the myths and legends of our very own town," said Sayta, "A silly pursuit really. Why would anyone want to know about such nonsense? Ah well, I suppose every tale has its place."

"Can you direct me to the book my daughter was looking for?" Ana asked.

"Of course," the librarian said.

The librarian was amazingly efficient and directed Ana to the book's precise location. After retrieving the tome, Ana was quick to begin reading, but she soon found that the book was too large and varied to deduce anything her daughter had been searching for. Disheartened, Ana could not withhold the tears any longer. Without her daughter, she had nothing, but just as she was giving up hope, a new clue appeared. A corner of a page in the book had been folded over, so Ana instinctively flipped to the page. Bold, blackened letters seemed to bleed over the paper: "The Mountain Witch". Ana read on, but she did not like what she read.

"Tales tell of an immortal witch who lived in a castle nestled in the mountains surrounding our humble village. One might hope that the witch was benevolent or wise, but the wretch is not so. She lures the young and the powerful to her side so that she can experiment upon them, turning the unsuspecting victims into her twisted abominations. Only a fool would dare to approach her castle, but the witch has methods of seduction that are beyond human restraint. Beware! If your kin has gone in search of this place, do not follow them. Their very essence is stripped away, and what remains is an infatuated creature: a pure servant of the illustrious witch for her vile purposes."

Ana could almost hear a raspy voice projecting the words from the page. Gloomy darkness protruded from the book, enveloping the room and twisting the space around her. The haunting visages of unbridled spirits mockingly laughed at Ana's misfortune. The taunting stoked a flame in her head, and all the pain of her loneliness overtook her. She covered her ears in a desperate attempt to blot out the noise, but the darkness would not relent. Knowing that nothing could silence these evil presences, Ana violently took one cover of the book and forced it to the other. When the light settled, Ana was alone again with the cursed book laying innocently on the table.

Ana did not have many options; she had to find the witch. Though she still did not know where her daughter was, this witch was the only connection Ana had. Swiftly, Ana shelved the book and went out into the cold. There was only one person she dared ask for help.

Knock, knock, knock! Ana tapped her hand on the well-worn timbers of her neighbor's home. The wind whipped around her reinforcing the dread of the journey she was about to embark upon. Whatever aid her friend could muster Ana would require to rescue her daughter.

The old door slid open, and warm, golden light poured out. A sturdy looking man with starkly blonde hair greeted Ana with a toothy smile. Unlike the phantom winds and imaginary apparitions of the mountains, this friendly face restored hope where there was none. "Mrs. Amari!" said the man, "Come in! It's too cold to be out."

The man ushered Ana into his cosy home. She was grateful for the hospitality, but that did not diminish the urgency of her business. "Hello, Jack," she said warmly, "I would love to chat, but I need your help."

"My help?" Jack said with a laugh, "You didn't run out of sugar again, did you?"

"It's about my daughter," Ana said with renewed gravity, "I believe she may be in serious danger."

Jack's face turned from a soft dough ball to a hardened crust. "What has happened?"

"Yesterday, Fareeha did not return home," Ana said, "I know something must have prevented her return, and now I believe she is being held captive by a witch!"

"A witch?" Jack said raising an eyebrow, "So the legends are true. The immortal lady still plagues these lands."

"You know of the legend?" Ana asked.

"An old tale from my days as a soldier," Jack replied, "It served as a means to explain many bizarre circumstances, but now I know the truth of it." Jack paused to think for a moment before continuing. "Ana, we are like family. You know I would do anything to protect your children just as I would my own. Let me prepare, and then we will track this witch." Ana nodded.

Jack went to his bedroom and retrieved an old revolver from the cabinet. "I'm not sure what good this will do, but I'd be a fool not to bring it." Before heading out, Jack spoke briefly to his wife and children, informing them of the urgent mission. Jack knelt down and grabbed his son's shoulder. "You're the man of the house while I'm gone, Jesse. Take care of your mother and sister for me, alright?"

"Yes, pa," the lad responded. He stood proud as the family watched their father and Ana walk away.

"Do you know where the witch lives?" Ana asked Jack.

"No," Jack replied, "But she lives in the mountains, and I befriended a smith who knows those mountains well."

Ana looked up and saw the gnarly, crag-covered peaks streaking across the pale sky. Their white-capped tips pierced the clouds and faded into the ether. In the dark shadow cast by the jagged ridgelines, nothing was safe; nothing felt sacred. The mountain snow sparkled like luminous eyes glaring down upon the isolated town. The witch was watching, waiting for her new guests to arrive. Terror welled up in Ana's heart like tea in a kettle, but she could not abandon Fareeha.

They came to an open shop at the edge of town where a stout blacksmith perfected his craft. The full-bearded man was hammering his irons with care when the pair approached. "Ah, Torbjörn, just then man I wanted to see," Jack said, "Might I take a moment of your time?"

Wiping his brow, the blacksmith looked up from his work. "For you, Jack," Torb said, "Two moments."

It didn't take long for Jack to explain the situation, and Torbjörn was glad to help. His expertise on the mountains was unparallelled since he so often went on mining expeditions through the treacherous rocks. According to the smith, the witch could only live in a castle on the far side of the mountain, but the estate was supposedly abandoned. Torbjörn was informative, but he was quick to forewarn them of traversing the dangerous cliffs. "It is a perilous journey," he said, "And whatever lives in this witch's castle cannot be much safer."

"Thank you," Jack said, "But we must take our chances."

"Now hold on!" Torbjörn cried, "I can't rightly set you off on this deadly trek by yourselves! I will accompany you."

Ana and Jack tried to dissuade the smith, appealing to his sense of self preservation, but the stubborn man would not allow it. Nevertheless, Ana and Jack were glad for the company. The journey was indeed treacherous, and many travelers had died along the way. In the indistinct rock formations, skeletons made the best landmarks. When the pathway finally widened and the sky turned an erroneous black, the poignant castle manifested in the distance. Its eclipsed parapets stretched high above the stony gates, but no life could be observed anywhere. As the trio came within shouting distance of the castle-manor, quaking thunder erupted from the clouds. At this the smith gave a start and was quick to voice his concern.

"I think I will wait outside if ya don't mind," Torbjörn said, "I'm not much of a fighter, so I'd probably just get in yer way."

Jack nodded. "We should return soon enough," he said.

"Aye," Torb replied, "And I'll be waitin' should something go awry."

Then Ana and Jack walked under the decayed, stone gate. Within, the courtyard was not in a better state. The garden was shriveled and full of rot while the stone sculptures were broken and covered in moss. As the storm overhead grew in volume, they tramped over the mangled stonework.

Caw! Caw! A crow shrieked behind them. Jack and Ana turned to see the soot colored bird fly from its perch into an upper window of the castle.

"One of the witch's servants," Jack observed.

"Jack, don't be silly," Ana said, a quiver in her voice, "It was just a bird."

"Are you certain?" Jack asked. There was as much fear in his words as inquisitiveness.

A few stone steps led to the large, rotting wood doors which permitted visitors into the castle. As Jack hands skimmed across the malformed wooden frame, an eerily humid air cascaded from the gaps in the door. Jack tugged on the door, and it scraped over the stones, the metal hinges crying out in agitation. Jack and Ana stepped inside the gloomy halls. They were completely enveloped by darkness.

Within the castle walls, it was silent. Even the air did not move. As Jack looked around, he couldn't see anything. Ana aptly grabbed a brazier from the nearby wall and handed it to Jack. "Thanks," he said, turning to Ana. Jack pulled a match from his pocket, struck it on the coarse stonework, and lit the coals in the brazier. Light now rippled over the bricks into the enticing depths of the castle. Jack glanced around once more, but was shocked to see the remnants of a skeleton hanging adjacent to him.

A gasp escaped Jack's mouth. "God! How did I not see that!?" Jack whined.

Ana chuckled. "Are you scared, Jack? You could always turn back."

"I'd much rather press on at this point," Jack replied. Looking down the hallway in front of them, Jack thought he saw stairs. "This way." He pointed down the hall.

They walked cautiously through the castle, their steps echoing for what seemed an eternity. After only a few paces, however, Jack heard a sudden clacking noise from behind. He and Ana spun around expecting a fight, but no one was there. Jack carefully examined the entryway from which they had come. The wall-mounted skeleton still hung in its place, but now he noticed another skeleton which had been hanging above them. "I really need to keep my eyes peeled," Jack mumbled. The both of them walked a few more paces before another clacking noise echoed behind them. Jack glanced behind, but nothing had changed.

When Jack's eyes returned to the front, he was startled to see another skeleton swinging in front of him. Ana shrieked. "Where did you come from?" Jack asked. The skeleton, though it did not move, seemed to smile eagerly as it rocked back and forth on iron chains stretching to the ceiling. Then Jack heard another noise behind them: the sound of wood and iron creaking followed by the slamming of a door. Bewildered, Jack spun around. There, at the entrance, the once wall-mounted skeleton stood upright, his bony fingers flush with the wooden door. Then laughter echoed through the castle.

A feminine voice called out to them, "Oh, I'm so glad you've finally arrived!" The lady chuckled. "I was hoping someone would come to rescue this poor girl! She's been quite the specimen, but I can't be confined to a single person." Then there was a snap, and flames burst into existence all across the room. The fires screeched with life, trailing from wall to wall and dotting the upper levels. Now Jack could clearly see the source of the misfortune.

A platinum blonde lady sat on an iron chandelier hanging over the stairwell. The candles around her shimmered over her immaculate skin, and she smiled brilliantly at her guests. She was no ordinary being. The witch was excruciatingly attractive, but her supernatural power amplified her desirability. Her slender legs curved over the iron framing and gravitated the eyes towards her supple thighs. A mini skirt barely covered the most delicate areas, but one could not linger there for long without noticing her sculpted waist. The curves led prominently to the witch's ample bosoms which jostled with every motion. Higher still, her naked shoulders blossomed into her tender neck and capped with her soft, lusty face. Her lips demanded attention, and her eyes burrowed deep into a man's soul. One could hardly stand upright in her presence, but Jack and Ana were far too disgusted by her malicious behaviour for such distractions.

"Oh, well, don't you two look scrumptious!" the witch said with delight. She clapped her hands. In the blink of an eye, Jack felt bony fingers clamp onto his arms and restrain his movements. Ana screamed as her own arms were pinned to her side.

The witch manifested a broom from seemingly thin air and descended towards her now captive guests. Her heels clacked on the stone floor as she stepped in front of Jack. "Mmmm," moaned the witch, bringing her face inches away from Jack, "You'll be very fun to play with." The witch giggled. Stone faced, Jack just stared into her eyes, her enticing but deathly eyes. There was a lovely darkness there, but it was evil. Then the witch turned her eyes to Ana. "And you must be the mother!" the witch cried, "How delightful! I can hardly wait to introduce you to your improved daughter!"

Ana growled, "You #####! You'll regret ever touching my daughter!"

"Oh, my," the witch chuckled. Then the softness of her face was replaced by cold anger. "I think I'll deal with you first." A bright smile returned to the evil lady's face, and with a snap of her fingers, both Ana and Jack were rendered unconscious.

Jack awoke in a dark and filthy cell. His arms and legs were chained in rusty iron shackles, and every movement abraded his wrists and ankles. Stone walls surrounded him. Other than the door, there was a barred window to his side and one on the outside wall. Water dripped onto his head from the sill; the storm had clearly intensified as thunder and lightning crackled in the distance. Then Jack heard another more terrifying noise: Ana's screams.

Jack could hear the torture unfolding. One moment, there was silence; the next, Ana would scream and wretch until she could not carry on any longer. Listening to the horrifying shrieks was exhausting. All hope seemed lost: they had wandered into the lion's den and had no defense. Nevertheless, the screams continued, reverberating through the stones and tearing into Jack ears. Being a man of action, listening to his friend in anguish was torturous near as much as Ana's suffering. Jack tried forcing his chains off, but the more he tried, the more he bled. Soon Jack's arms and legs were stained with crimson. He struggled evermore as the screaming continued, but the shackles prevailed. Eventually, Jack lost his strength and could not fight the irons. Even as he relinquished himself to his fate, the screaming continued as if the witch was mocking him. Jack wept, and his body sagged against the iron chains.

Then a new voice spoke to Jack. "It's your own fault, you know," said a deep and sorrowful voice.

Jack coughed out some phlegma. "What?" he replied. His voice had gone hoarse.

"You should have know better than to struggle against the chains," the voice said, "That only causes more pain."

"That's not... why… I cry," Jack said with what strength he could muster. He convulsed as his breathing became more rapid.

"Then what are you weeping for?" the voice asked, "What could possibly cause you such pain?"

"My friend… is suffering," Jack moaned, "Because I was a fool."

"Stupidity is not something to be saddened over," the voice curiously remarked.

"No," Jack retorted, "The pain is for my friend, not me."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a blackened hand wrap around the prison cell bars in the adjacent window. "How can you be sad for something outside yourself?"

"Sympathy… friendship… love. How can you not know of these things?" Jack asked.

The being in the other cell shifted. "I have never loved, nor been loved," the voice said, "All I have know is my master's wrath. She spurns me when I do not serve her properly, and beats me when I displease her."

Blood dripped off Jack's forearms. "That's… no way to live," Jack said. His head drooped as his energy dissipated. He half-heartedly chuckled. "Perhaps, in another life, we might've been friends. I could've freed you from this place, but we're all her prisoners now."

"You mean… you would be my friend?" the voice asked in hushed tones.

"I suppose," Jack said, "but there is no hope of escape now."

The being wrapped both hands on the bars, and a dark form appeared behind them. "What if I free you? Could we be friends?"

Jack strained his neck upward. His puffy, glazed eyes blinked at the being. "If you could free me, I would love you like my brother," Jack said.

The being stood motionless for a moment, and then suddenly dissolved into nothing. Jack stared at the window where the hands had disappeared. A black mist rose over the lip of the window and poured into Jack's cell. It flowed around the iron bars and billowed down the stones. The darkness took form: a man of sorts covered by soot and ash and with sunken eyes. If the being was not keenly aware of Jack's position, he would've thought the man blind.

"What are you?" Jack asked. He could barely hold his eyes open.

"Many things," the creature said, "But my master calls me 'the Reaper'. Let me show you my power." The Reaper reached out and grabbed Jack's wrists. He roared and with great strength the chains around Jack's arms shattered into tiny fragments. Then the Reaper moved on to Jack's ankles, and those shackles broke too.

Jack collapsed to the ground, his bloodied arms huddled around his face. "Thank you…" Jack wheezed. His face moved to joyful tears. Blood, sweat, and tears soaked Jack's entire body.

"Here, friend," the creature said. He held out his hand with a tiny scrap of bread and a cup in his other. "For your strength."

Jack eagerly scarfed down the nutrients and was soon on his feet. "Thank you, my friend," Jack said with humble sobriety, "Now we must destroy this witch and free the people she has tortured."

"My master is powerful," the Reaper replied, "She has many more pets to contend with."

Jack sighed. "I don't know this place, and I don't have my weapon. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"My master has many allies, but she has one weakness that only I know," Reaper said.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Silver," the Reaper said, "The substance burns her flesh and retards her magic."

"So do we have any silver?" Jack asked, "I certainly don't."

"Hunters have come before," the Reaper said, "Silver bullets, they carried. My master bid me to take them away, but I hid them close."

"Well, that could work!" Jack exclaimed, "But I need my gun."

"It is not far," the Reaper said, "Follow me." With one flick of his wrist, the cell door flung open, and the lock smashed on the floor. The Reaper led Jack through the ominous stone hallways, eventually reaching a small room with a single table. Jack's gun and belt were laid on the table.

"Alright," Jack said. He grabbed the belt and strapped it around his waist. "Now we need to save my friend."

"She is not far," the Reaper said, "A little further down the tower."

"Okay, let's go!" Jack said.

"No," the Reaper insisted, "You go, friend, but I must get the silver before you confront the witch."

"Very well," Jack said, "But I will not be able to wait for long."

"Trust me, my friend," the Reaper said with a nod. Then he vaporized into a cloud of darkness and blew out of the room.

Jack checked his revolver. There were still bullets inside should the need arise. Jack stepped down the hallway and descended the spiral stairwell. As he came to the next floor, an echoing cackle filled his eardrums. The witch had amused herself, but she clearly wasn't waiting on this floor. Jack looked down the hall and saw a streak of blood protruding from one of the cells. Much as it dismayed him, Jack knew that fresh blood was the best way to locate Ana. He walked to the cell as the storm without shook the structure with deafening thunder. Looking inside, Jack saw Ana huddled into a corner with her hands over her face.

"Ana, I'm here," Jack called out. She did not respond.

Now he just had to find a way to open the cell. His gun would work, but there was no way to mask the… Crack! Thunder shook the castle stones, and dust cascaded around Jack. "Of course!" Jack said. He watched the lightning flash around the castle and counted the seconds before the sound would hit. Now Jack knew exactly when to fire. He cocked his gun, aimed at the lock and waited. A brilliant flash of electricity arced through the sky. One, two, three… Bang! The cell door swung open, and the castle remained unaware.

Jack jumped into the cell. Ana's body was covered in blood. Her clothing was soaked with crimson fluid. Blood streaked down her head and overflowed through her fingers covering her face. Jack cradled Ana in his arms. "Ana!" Jack cried, "Ana, no! Please, you must live." Tears welled in his eyes as he rocked back and forth.

Then Ana moaned, "Jaaack…"

"Ana!" Jack exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

Ana's hands shook wildly. "Jack, I…" her voice returned but tremored with fear, "I can't see!" As Ana's hands peeled away, a gorey sigh was revealed. Ana's right eye had been carved out of her face. What remained was a collection of burgundy flesh strands dripping a thickened blood substance. The other eye was intact but acted strangely. Her pupil rolled back and forth like it was searching but had nothing to fixate upon.

Jack reeled at the sight, but he couldn't do anything to restore her. "C'mon," Jack said hesitantly, placing his arm around her, "I'm getting you out of here. We can deal with that witch once you're safe." Ana gripped Jack tightly, and together they walked out of the cell.

Jack wasn't quite sure where he was headed, but he knew he had to get Ana as far from the castle as possible. Arms wrapped around one another, they walked cumbersomely down the stairs. Every step for Ana was like ripping her body in two. Her chest burned with pain as she continued to exert herself. Blood steadily dripped from the both of them. Drip, drip, drip. Every movement caused another droplet to fall upon the cobblestones.

Eventually, they slugged their way to the bottom, but Jack was startled to find that they were still high in the castle interior. Ahead a dark room stretch out before them. The little illumination from the windows revealed another stairwell across the vast emptiness. A knot of uneasiness rose in Jack's gut, but he could do nothing aside from press onward.

Then Jack heard an all too familiar sound. The witch was laughing. Ana whimpered, "Jack… she's here." With a snap the lights came on and the irresistible lady revealed herself. Apparently, Jack had walked directly into the witch's throne room. A golden chair, furnished with delicate satin, caressed the witch's impeccable body.

"Well done, Jack!" the witch said exuberantly, "You certainly are a fighter." She got up from her throne and approached Jack. She looked into his eyes with a carnivorous gaze, lightly touching his chin. "I do like the feisty ones." She looked to Ana and smiled. "That's why this lady and myself had so much fun together."

"You're sick," Jack retorted, "I could never be with someone like you."

"Oh, Jack!" the witch feigned hurt as she stepped back to her throne. She placed her hand on her breast. "You hurt me, darling!" She smiled. "But don't worry. You'll start to enjoy all this pleasure once we break your mind. After all, Ana's daughter certainly does."

Ana nearly choked, as she lost what little strength she had left. "You… you…"

"Oh, Fareeha!" the witch called, "Come out here, would you?"

From the darkness behind the witch's throne, a tall, well-built lady emerged. The dark straight hair and the smooth, tan skin defined her unmistakably as Fareeha. She was clean and unscathed, but her injuries rested deeper within. "Yes, my master?" the compliant servant inquired.

"Mmmm!" the witch moaned, "Oh, every time you say that I get so hot!" The witch squealed with delight. "My darling, Fareeha, why don't you tell your mother about how we made love?"

"God…" Ana whined.

"Don't be such a wimp, Ana!" the witch retorted, "Go ahead, my buttercup."

"No!" Jack said defiantly.

"Mmmm," the witch moaned again, "I like the way you say 'no', but right now it's story time."

Fareeha opened her mouth. "Well, first, my master dressed me in a skin tight uniform and positioned me…"

"No," Jack groaned.

"...and then my master jumped on top of me, her breasts bouncing gracefully in her corset, and she began to peel back the suit…"

"NO," Jack continued.

"...and after that she stuck her…"

"NOOOOO!"

"...and then I…"

"Ya know what!" Jack shouted. "I've heard just about enough of this ########!" Jack hefted his revolver and pointed it directly at the witch.

"Oooh, Jaack," the witch said flirtatiously, "How bold of you. ...but you know I can't be harmed by your mortal instruments."

"Maybe not," Jack said with a grin, "But judging by your... 'delicateness' I'm betting it will still hurt like a ###########."

The witch chuckled. "Try me." Her eyes were alight with passion. Confrontation doesn't come very often when you're an immortal being.

Jack cocked his gun and fired. In an instant, a green flash blurred across their vision, and the bullet ricocheted backwards into a chandelier. As the smoke rose from the barrel of Jack's revolver, the light glistened over the blade which had deflected the bullet. An unnatural green emanated from the blade's edge and it trailed from the blade into the body of a strange warrior. His entire body was covered in plates and bolts like he was held together by the metallic framework. His graceful stance revealed his battle knowledge; even the most revered swordsman would think twice before challenging this abomination to a duel. The man spoke with a foreign accent, "No one harms my master." The warrior let his sword swing to his side. "You will pay for your insolence."

Meanwhile, the loud sound of gunfire had shocked Ana, and she collapsed to the floor. Jack was startled both by the appearance of this warrior and by Ana distress, so his arms relaxed to his sides. The witch was immortal and had a physics-bending bodyguard. Now nothing could save them.

The warrior approached Jack. "You must be punished. Perhaps I will take the lives of those you love. Perhaps your life." He brought his sword to Jack's throat.

Jack couldn't pay attention to the warriors threats. The shock of this powerful display had forced Jack into a corner without any escape. He felt so cold like death was pacing over him, and yet he would face a fate far worse than death if the witch had her way. Then a warmth caressed his hand like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day. Jack's fingers naturally broke open, and he felt another hand upon his own. The hand pressed a cold object into his palm, one without great size or rough edges. He clasped his hand over the object. Jack knew immediately what he was holding; he just hoped that stalling for a few moments would provide an opportunity to strike.

"Genji, please," the witch scolded. "I'm sorry, Jack. Genji is a bit overzealous, but he's kind of useless in terms of love-making."

Genji stepped away from Jack. "My only purpose is to protect you, master."

"Wait," Jack started, "Did you deflect my bullet?"

"Indeed, I did," Genji said triumphantly, "I turned your own power against you."

"What? no," Jack retorted, "That's ########."

"No," Genji corrected, "I am a master of the blade. That is my skill."

Jack shook his head. "No, it's just ########. You're breaking the laws of physics! Can't you just fight for yourself?"

Genji crossed his arms. "I bet you're just jealous because you don't have such a cool ability."

"Jealous? Please," Jack replied, "Having to use someone else's attack to defend yourself makes you look like a pathetic #####."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Genji sighed.

"Well get used to it," Jack said, "I don't think I'm leaving anytime soon!"

"Boys, please!" the witch exclaimed. She rubbed her head as she attempted to defuse the situation. She turned her eyes to her loyal warrior. "Genji, you are a #####. That's how I made you, so shut up." Then she looked to Jack. "And you, Jack, you need to 'git gud' and stop shooting Genji while he's deflecting."

Jack growled in disgust. "Lady, do you even english right now?"

"Oh, c'mon, Jack," Genji said, "Just take the insult and be done with it." Suddenly, black arms manifested around Genji. They curled up from underneath Genji's own appendages and over his shoulders. Without warning, Genji was locked in place by the Reaper whose ashen from abruptly appeared in front of the group.

"Now, my friend!" said the Reaper, "Strike now!"

With a continuous, fluid motion, Jack opened his revolver; loaded the silver bullet into an empty slot; slapped the gun closed; flicked the chamber into position; cocked the gun; and squeezed the trigger. One gleaming silver wedge soared through the throne room like a meteor readying to disrupt an entire world. The witch was helpless as the bullet punctured her chest and pierced her arteries. The vile woman convulsed and rolled from her throne onto the coarse, dirty floor.

As blood gushed from her mouth, Jack stood over her, ensuring that she was dying. She managed to get out a few last words. "You could've had all this… what a waste…"

"F*** you," Jack replied.

"That's right, daddy," the witch said with her final smile. Then, with one last gurgle of blood, the witch perished.

As the Reaper released him, the iridescent green warrior fell to his knees. "No! Nooo!" he screamed. He began to shake uncontrollably. Genji's metal fingers scraped along his neck as he coughed and hacked like he was turning inside out. He wretched and sputtered although he had no mouth. Suddenly, the metal plates shielding Genji's body began to rattle, and he contorted into inhuman positions. Slowly the plates compressed and pale blood oozed between the sheets. Genji screamed in agony; his master was not only his purpose but held his very life in her hands. As the magic that held his body together dissipated, Genji's very essence was torn asunder. Jack looked away as the metal exoskeleton crushed Genji and squeezed the last ounce of his blood onto the stones below.

Then Fareeha collapsed. Jack leapt to her side. Kneeling beside her, Jack said, "Fareeha? Are you alright?"

Fareeha gradually lifted her head. "M… Mr. Morrison? What's going on?"

"I'll tell you the story when we get back to town," Jack said. He smiled as he realised that Fareeha had returned to her usual self, almost bringing him to tears. "Can you walk?"

Fareeha grabbed onto Jack's shoulder. "Yes, I think so," she replied.

"Good," Jack said. He helped the girl to her feet. "Can you help me with your mother?"

"My mother?" Fareeha asked. She looked at the crumpled and bloodied form that slumped on the stone floor. "Mother!" she cried. Fareeha ran to Ana's side. Holding her mother's disfigured face in her hands, she began to cry. "Mother! What has happened to you?"

Ana also wailed. "Fareeha," she cried, "My Fareeha." They hugged each other tightly. Mother and daughter reunited at last, they huddled together for a few minutes.

Jack looked to the Reaper who calmly stood over Genji's broken frame. "Thank you," Jack said, "You saved us. Without you, we would have surely perished."

The Reaper quietly laughed. "I have abandoned my master and gained a friend. What strange currency this world deals in."

"Please," Jack said, "Return with us to the village. As I said, you are like a brother to me now."

The Reaper nodded. "So be it."

And so the soldier, the widow, the daughter, and the creature left the gloomy castle. They met with the smith, who was quite worried about them, and consoled his fears. Abandoning the cursed fortress to the elements, the five returned to the little town, and never returned to the wicked place. Yet the castle remained, ever keeping watch in its darkened state. Those unclean towers still streak the sky and overshadow the sullen mountainside. The roost of evil awaited a new master, and the darkness complied.

THE END

Happy Halloween!


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